Coyotes and the Tides

I’m listening to coyotes yip and yowl outside my bedroom window.

Maya is agitated. She was this way all night, curled up close to me seeking a sense of safety that was proving elusive. The coyotes were probably nearby and it was windy—she has never liked the wind. And certainly not the coyotes.

Whatever the reason, she felt threatened and afraid even though she was safe with us.

Out world is groaning under the weight of all manner of trials. I figuratively tremble at the news some days. Like Maya, I seek a sense of safety that seems difficult to find. I have far more questions than answers.

Intention to remain faithful to spiritual and other practices that ground me sometimes falls by the wayside. I don’t have it all figured out but I keep returning to center. Like the tide ebbing and flowing, and the world shifting and changing, I inhale and exhale.

I begin again.

Coyotes threaten. Peace reigns.



I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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